Cecilos - Cooking and Contentment
by Rae'vyn Phiar
Summary: Cecil comes home to see Carlos cooking and having a bit of fun while doing so. A basic, sweet little fluff Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, and following! Rated M for YAOI KISSING AND CUTE SHIT!


_This story is brought to you by fun college roommates and floor-mates who adore Welcome to Night Vale as much as I do and kept coming up with cute shit for these two guys. We're all too invested in this damn show! Hees~!_

 _Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, and following! Please tell your friends about my content if you liked it, it may help me to find new ideas for prompts if they suggest anything! Also, please review! Anything, and I mean_ _ **anything**_ _, helps me out! And please ask for whatever you want here; I won't judge! Thanks again!_

 _Rated M for YAOI KISSING AND CUTE SHIT! If you want to know why I rate everything M, feel free to consult my profile information, since I talk about it there. If that is not sufficient, then please do contact me via PM. I don't own Cecil or Carlos!_

 **Cecilos – Cooking and Contentment**

Cecil returned from the grocery store with _mostly_ uncontaminated food, due to the small-scale, low-grade nuclear waste puddle that had sprung up from the ground underneath the dairy aisle. No one paid it much attention, just walked around it and hoped for the best, as usual. He unlocked the door with most of the plastic bags on one arm, effectively cutting off a little circulation (not to mention the odd, foul-smelling odor from the puddle), before he bumped the door with his knee and opened it.

New smells hit him, warming, uplifting, and somehow fulfilling, like a family home at the so-called 'Christmastime', the house a bit warmer than normal as well. Quiet music was playing about the entire space, seeming to come from the kitchen walls themselves but on further inspection, meaning the blonde peered around the corner, just came from a phone perched in a glass cup to act as a speaker.

The owner of said phone was Carlos, who was cooking dinner, since they had partaken in the mandatory Bid Rico's night last night. However, he was not cooking in the tired way most housewives do, seeming to hunch over the stove a little more with each passing second and giving tired looks at anyone who would pass by, as if asking for them for mercy. Not at all.

Carlos was moving about in a way that could only be described as a moderate form of dancing, the tanned individual lightly humming along and moving about his shoulders and hips in time. His long dark hair was gathered into its customary ponytail at the back of his neck, but an alligator clip had folded it out of the way at the back of his head. Somehow he'd managed not to stain the pristine white apron tied about his waist, even though he was accustomed to spilling various chemicals or what-have-you about his lab on himself almost daily.

The music, now that he understood the tones, was undoubtedly of a Hispanic nature, no singing in the various selections, but tones and patterns that Carlos had played before, but not often. He was proud of his heritage, but he didn't do much to project it, wanting to look toward the future rather than remain in the past. A scientific thing to do, unless of course an old idea needed to be tested or resolved.

In the time it took Cecil to recognize and take note of these things, Carlos had noticed his presence in the form of his eyes widening and a small jolt, a few items of the cut-up food in the pan he was holding flipping up and back into the thin layer of oil, only one falling out and subsequently on his arm. Then there was an exclamation of pain, a shout, a cry, whatever one would like to personally call it.

"I didn't mean to startle you," the blonde said in a panicked tone, standing up from his crouch around the corner and rushing to the other's aid. Carlos' face blanked and then went a bit pink, but there wasn't much time for explanation. Cecil grabbed his wrist and thrust his forearm under cold water, acting as if this was a serious injury and not just a minor little welt that would heal up in a day or so.

"I'm fine, Cecil. Don't worry; I've had worse happen." He smiled and kissed his temple, eliciting a soft purple blush that complemented his entire being other than perhaps the not-so-great-looking-but-still-worked-on-him paisley shirt he wore. "But I'm glad you care. Now let me get back to making food."

As Carlos pulled away and returned to the stove, making sure the contents of two pans and something in the oven were alright, Cecil leaned against the sink and asked the fateful question of, "Do you want any help?" At that the Hispanic man raised an eyebrow with a warm smile and the violet-eyed man fell silent with an odd sort of half-smile on his face; not in a sort of ruse to hide fear or embarrassment or rebuke, but since he knew that this was something the other didn't mind doing and that he was happy to do. It was a silly sort of silence, as if the other would have walked in on him during his broadcast with something nice like food or something for Khoshehk. Besides, Cecil would probably just become a hazard in the kitchen. He wasn't exactly clumsy, just accident-prone to a fault. "Fine… Then I guess I'll just…" He thought of a valid sort of excuse that would constitute the other asking him to stay and talk or something of the sort.

"It's fine if you want to stay." Cecil smiled a little and saw the knowing look in his eye. "I don't need to be one of Josie's _special friends_ to know that you were going to make up something." The blonde's smile faltered a bit and Carlos continued with, "Not that it's a bad thing or anything that you do that sort of stuff! Actually it's kinda cute, so…" He smiled a little, the hand he was using to stir the bigger of the two pans faltering a bit.

At that the blonde pulled up a chair to the small island and sat with his elbows up on the granite countertop and his chin in his hands, enjoying the other's company as they made small talk, first talking about how both of their respective workplaces were treating them as well as what happened that day. Carlos started off well on the subject of the nuclear puddle, but then devolved into a ramble on why one of the members of his team had gotten ill and started sprouting small, wavering tentacles on her arms and legs. Cecil merely rambled on how the bloodstone circle in the sales office broke down and the new Shawns therein had wept and gnashed their teeth in anguish over it. Such odd creatures, Shawns…

In time the food was thoroughly cooked, the island dressed with the appropriate dishware, and the pair sitting side by side with warm smiles on their faces as they continued to talk between bites of food that could rival Tourniquet's, or at least Cecil complemented the other man as if he'd _actually_ eaten there rather than countless times at Applebee's.

When the food was promptly in the various states of being digested, they washed up the dishes, Carlos leaving a few to soak overnight, and proceeded to watch hours of mind-numbing television. The stations were of course interrupted by different emergency drill broadcasts that put Cecil on edge for a bit, since sometimes the powers-that-be accidently put on the drill broadcasts rather than the actual emergency procedure ones. At these times, the dark-eyed man knew it was best to simply let the other go through his spell of tension and just, in a naïve way to any resident of the city, relax and let it pass.

"That was the fourth one," Carlos stated after the other relaxed again against his side, exhaling after what seemed to be a full five minutes of shallow breathing and freak-out. Cecil stiffened his spine and then relaxed as the other's fingertips played about his shoulder and upper arm in a random but relaxing way. "You okay now?"

He nodded rather than spoke, then pressed a kiss to his cheek, then his mouth, letting the latter one linger for much longer. "I'm glad you care about this too…" The kisses gradually grew in length but not any further in intensity, a calm, soft-hearted bout of kissing that left the blonde a little more than just blushing.

And thus the night wore on, but unlike so many other citizens in other houses on other well-worn couched, the couple were happily content in just the simple things.


End file.
